So, this morning, I realized how deeply involved I become when writing a new story. I was on the train for nearly 30 minutes before I realized how much I had written (11 pages!). In fact, at the same time I looked up to read the exit sign, I felt the pang in my hand from the fierce writing I had done. I love that feeling. It's like the day after a hard workout at the gym - the good sort of pain.
Currently, I'm writing about Melissa May Clarke, a seventeen year old from a small town in New Mexico. Though she was a good girl, Missy's childhood was wrought with difficulties stemming from her mother's abuse of alcohol and revolving door of men. Her only serenity came in the form of her best friend, Damon. At least, he was her serenity until she witnessed his deadly fall from the McCulley Bridge.
Now, toting all of her memories in the suitcase at her feet, she heads to Las Vegas. But she soon realizes life away from home is scary and hard for a girl without any money, family or friends, and nowhere to live. Missy is quickly pulled into the scandalous world of teenage prostitution when she meets up with a 'family' of other homeless teens struggling to survive.
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